Game Control
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: 'TK, my hand is not a game-controller.' A little pre-divorce brotherly love.


Author's Notes

Finally finished exams. Yay! So Summer break. Which means working, doing chores and studying unfortunately. But more time to write as well (hopefully).

I'm assuming TK was around 4 and Matt was around 7 when their parents got divorced, because it sounded like from the first season it was soon after the digimon being first sighted in Heighten View Terrace, which was four years before the rest of season one.

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><span>Game Control<span>

'TK, my hand is not a game-controller.' A little pre-divorce brotherly love.

Yamato I/Matt & Takeru T/TK

* * *

><p>Matt was starting to regret introducing his little brother to the world of video games. For a little kid, he sure had a big obsession with it. Of course, one couldn't really help it when their only big brother sat in front of the TV with the controls in hand and both parents spent long hours at work.<p>

And it wasn't like Matt could help it either. Playing video games was a distraction to be sure, but it was also something largely mechanical. Often, people took a break, whether that be in quotations or no, to play games of the sort, involved senseless slaughter of little pixels and relentless shooting; no thinking involved there. Which left him free to think about other things.

Like his parents. TK was too young, and that was a blessing in disguise, to notice how little they interacted with each other. Both were at work for long hours, but it would not have seen nearly so bad except they spent less than an hour or two on average together in a single day, if even that on occasion. During the day, their father worked at the TV station and their mother obsessed over her computer or else caught up on her sleep when both children were at school. Dinner was lucky to have their father home. It hadn't happened in more than three weeks if he remembered correctly. Nancy's hours were at all ends; being a reporter, she was forced to adhere to her targets' timetables, but she spent late hours into the night doing research and interviews that couldn't be obtained during more godly hours. It was unavoidable, or so they both claimed, but he knew it hadn't always been like that. When was the last time they had a Sunday barbecue too?

Lately, the two brothers had been left to their own devices. In the stifling weather, that wasn't much at all. Pre-school, along with the elementary school, didn't really offer enough work to keep a four year old and a seven year old occupied for long…not that they wanted to change that. But there wasn't much to be done. TK was slowly outgrowing his building blocks, and the harmonica required more air than he could himself always spare. There were a few books and things, but that required thinking as well, and it was simply too hot for that. Which then only left the video games, seeing as the tub of ice-cream in the freezer was off limits, despite the fact that the eyes on them were blocked by several walls. Nancy always seemed to know if they broke the no sweets before dinner rule.

So that was his reason. Or excuse. TK's only reason was because his brother was doing the same. He was still at the "duckling" age, where he tagged along behind the older brother.

As one might expect, he hadn't won a game yet, but apparently he had inherited the Ishida stubbornness, even at that young age, because he was unrelenting.

It took several minutes of crying and wailing to tear him away from the controller once it was time for bed. With some sadness and a deeper level of bitterness, he noted their father had still not come home, though he should have by that time. Their mother had left some hours ago for a late interview, and would be returning past their bedtime.

Which left Matt with the chore of pulling his little brother away from the TV and towards the bathroom.

'But I wanna play,' the four year old wailed, clutching at the device.

'No TK,' the elder brother said strictly. 'It's time for bed.'

It took a few more rounds of protest before TK relinquished his hold, yawning and betraying his tiredness.

'Bathroom.'

He shuffled away without a word.

Later, when it was time to get under the covers, he clutched his brother again. 'Song?' he asked sleepily.

'Song?' his brother repeated, without the childish lisp, before shrugging in a "what the heck" manner and pulling his harmonica from his pocket, bringing it up to his lips. For a moment, he played, and the other's eyes slipped tiredly shut as his mind floated on the melodies, then he put the little instrument in his lap and watched the other peacefully sleep.

One land lay above the covers, and he moved to tuck it in, but the other unconsciously grabbed it, pressing skin and muscle in an odd manner

'TK?'

The little boy slept on.

It took a moment for his brain to register the motion. When it did, he sighed in somewhat exasperation. His little bro certainly had inherited the Ishida stubbornness.

'My hand is not a game-controller.'

'Hafta beat Matt,' the four year old mumbled, soundly asleep.

'Don't worry. You'll win someday.' And he meant it. Not that he'd say that when the other was awake though. There was some pride in winning to maintain after all.

Then there was the sound of a door slamming and raised voices, and TK's hand gripped him harder as the blue eyes crept open.

'What is it brother?'

Their parents had come home.

'Nothing. Just go back to sleep.'


End file.
